


Don't Tell Sammy - Yet Again

by MurderousQueen



Series: Don't Tell Sammy [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Kinda fluff I guess? Idk that sleeping on Cas's chest thing could qualify as fluff, M/M, Sequelish, Smut, canonverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:03:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8637976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderousQueen/pseuds/MurderousQueen
Summary: On again, off again, will they ever learn?





	1. 3am

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Don't read this if you haven't read Don't Tell Sammy and the original ending
> 
> Now, this was SUPPOSED to be an entire sequel to the original fic with alternate ending 1 venturing through the canon of the show, but I tried and I tried and I rewatched episodes and it's jUST NOT POSSIBLE DAMN IT TO GET IT INTO THE CANON GAH!!! I tried but Dean keeps sticking his stupid dick in women in season 9 BEFORE when I was going to say he and Cas broke up for a while (until s12, actually, the night I wrote about here) so I couldn't. Instead this is going to be a series of encounters they have off screen in season 12 and if they don't get together at the end of the god damn season I will WRITE. THEM. A NEW. SEASON. ENDING!
> 
> Thank you for your time.

For the first time, the bunker truly felt like a place people lived.

Sam and Dean had been living in it for what? Four years now or something? Dean had lost count. But it had always been like a ghost town with the occasional drifter. Kevin had been here, and he’d died. Charlie had visited every so often, and she’d died. Cas had come for a time, and left. And then he’d come back and been blasted away. And now he was back again.

It wasn’t just Cas that was back. It was Mary, too. Except she wasn’t _back_. She was just … here. For the first time. Sam’s room was occupied, Dean’s room was occupied, the room Cas had once spent a few weeks in watching TV and recovering from a spell was occupied, and now a whole new room was occupied, too. Or … sort of. It had been, earlier, but Dean was having a restless night and every time he awoke he heard footsteps wandering around and he knew they weren’t Cas’s. He knew what Cas’s footsteps sounded like.

He supposed it was natural for his mother to be wandering around. First night in a new place. First night back from the dead, post-Sam-rescue at least. It worried him a little, but he figured he’d get over it.

He wasn’t worried when he heard the second set of footsteps chime in with their wandering, because that was just Cas, and Cas didn’t need to sleep. The guy had probably gotten bored and decided to wander around, and Dean wondered if Cas would come across Mary and maybe the two could chat or something. He could convince her to go back to bed. Because he could rely on Cas, right?

Dean had only just drifted off again when he was awoken by a knock on his bedroom door that was familiar. It was Cas’s knock, and Dean glanced at the time wondering what he wanted: three. In the morning. Ugh. He was gonna be tired tomorrow, but he’d get over it. He was used to it.

He got out of bed and looked around for his robe when he realized he’d given it to his mom. Eh, whatever. He didn’t need it. It was just Cas, Cas had seen him in his underwear and a shirt before. Cas had seen him in much less. But that was years ago, long forgotten now, probably never even crossed Cas’s mind anymore. It barely even crossed Dean’s, apart from the times he and Cas say … went out to eat (or Dean eat, Cas not) somewhere alone together, or other times they were alone and it was relatively calm.

Like now, when he opened the door to the angel in the trenchcoat looking … not at him, until the door opened, the light from the hallway spilling into Dean’s room and illuminating him.

‘Hey, Cas,’ Dean replied with a dry throat.

‘Dean,’ Castiel greeted. Looking at the ground. No “hello.” Huh.

‘What’s up?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘I, uh … ran out of ways to occupy my time so I decided to walk around for a while. I talked to your mother. She’s … adjusting. I’m not. It’s … I don’t feel as though I belong here, Dean.’

Dean blinked a few times, clearing the sleep from his eyes and wondering if he’d heard Cas right.

‘Don’t leave,’ Dean stated blankly, the first thing he thought of, the first worry that hit him.

‘I won’t,’ Castiel told him flatly. ‘I don’t know where else I would go.’

Another few seconds passed. Dean stepped back, opening the door wider.

‘Come in,’ he requested. ‘Get the lights. Not all the way.’

Castiel turned on the lights once he’d entered, keeping them dim, Dean closing the door behind him. Dean walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge of it, elbows on his knees and his hands folded between them, as Cas went to sit on the chair Dean always kept facing his bed for … well, for instances such as this, he guessed. He’d never really known why he kept a chair facing okay well no that was a lie, it was in case Cas came in and wanted to just … that, he didn’t actually know. Sit or something.

‘What do you mean you don’t feel like you belong here?’ Dean questioned seriously, fixing Cas with a hard stare.

Castiel shrugged. Again.

‘It’s like I’m out of place,’ he stated. ‘You, Sam, your mother … you three are a family. And I’m not. And I have no one outside of … here. Or inside of here, as it comes down to it.’

‘Cas, you _do_ have someone in here,’ Dean corrected him. ‘I told you … what? Not even a week ago? Before the Sam-napping and the mom coming back thing? That you’re family. _We’re_ family.’

‘I know,’ Castiel nodded. Flat. Blank. ‘You said … I’m like … your brother.’

‘You are,’ Dean confirmed. ‘Like a brother to Sam … and like … like a brother …’

‘To you?’

‘If you like.’

Another pause. There were a lot of pauses tonight. Ones that were not comfortable.

‘No, Dean,’ Castiel replied delicately. _Sharp_ ly. ‘I don’t _like_.’

Dean raised his eyebrows, a little taken aback.

‘Okay, okay, easy,’ Dean attempted to calm. ‘Alright. Up to you. Not brothers, I get it.’

 _Good_. Honestly, Dean hadn’t known what the fuck he was thinking in calling Cas his brother in the first place. Brothers weren’t … like them. And brothers … weren’t in love with their brothers, because Dean was very much in love with Cas. Cas had been in love with Dean once. Dean wondered when that had faded away.

‘Why would you even say that in the first place?’ Castiel snapped, startling Dean. ‘We’re not _brothers_ , Dean. We could never be _brothers_.’

‘I don’t know, man, I just thought –’

‘You didn’t _think_ ,’ Castiel replied sourly. ‘You only thought about what you thought I wanted to hear which yes, is technically thinking, but if you’ll excuse my contradiction I’d be grateful because it would be more than you’ve done for me lately.’

Now that, that hurt. Dean’s cool and collected and slightly sympathetic face fell away and it fell into a hard, stony mask of anger and disbelief.

‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

‘It means what it means,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘And it’s the truth. I wasn’t thinking about it. I was pushing those thoughts away like I do with most things. But when I talked to your mother and she talked about not belonging here and I found I could relate, I … I can’t, Dean. I can’t ignore it. The only thing you’ve done for me in … in _months_ is … not die.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows challengingly, and feeling the sinking feeling that it was true. ‘Well, maybe I should’ve died. You might be happier then.’

‘No,’ Castiel growled.

‘I don’t understand what you want from me, Cas.’

‘I don’t know, Dean!’ Castiel half-shouted, getting to his feet and looking down at him. ‘I don’t know what I want from you. This was pointless. I’m leaving.’

‘ _No_ , Cas,’ Dean begged, jumping up and grabbing Cas after he’d turned away. ‘You said it yourself. You have nowhere else to go.’

‘Yes, that’s true,’ Castiel replied, pulling out of Dean’s grip, ‘and I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Sam in any case. I meant I’m leaving … this conversation. I don’t even know why I came here. I was stupid to think that … that I’d get anything out of this.’

‘Please,’ Dean said quietly. ‘Don’t leave. Stay. I just … talk to me, Cas. Tell me what you want.’

‘I told you,’ Castiel replied, quiet now, slumping in defeat, ‘I don’t know.’

Dean let go of Cas’s shoulder and went back towards his bed, collapsing on the end of it and staring at the floor. He half expected Cas to leave and for that to be that, but felt comforted when Cas walked back to the chair. And then he felt guilty for feeling comforted, because Cas was the one he should be comforting, not the other way around.

‘You were possessed,’ Dean said weakly. ‘You were possessed, and I tried to get you back.’

‘I didn’t want to come back,’ Castiel countered. ‘I wanted to let Lucifer take control and defeat Amara. In the end I know that’s not how it happened, but at the time I thought that would be how it did.’

‘I asked you to stay today,’ Dean added, even more weakly. ‘I even asked you to sit and talk with us. But you moped off.’

‘I told you,’ Castiel shrugged, ‘I felt like I’d be invading your family. I didn’t want to intrude.’

‘You _are_ family,’ Dean told him, then repeated himself to add an extra word. ‘You _are_ my family.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Castiel asked, biting and bitter and glum, ‘How? How do you see me as family, Dean? Because I can’t figure it out.’

Dean stayed silent because he couldn’t respond. He didn’t know how. Well, he did, but … he couldn’t respond that way, not now, not anymore. Maybe years ago, but not here. Now. Not now.

The silence was too long, and Castiel got to his feet again. They hadn’t looked at each other since Cas had first tried to leave and sat down again, but he glanced at Dean before he reached the door and stopped in his tracks.

Dean heard the footsteps cease and looked up, up at Castiel’s tilted, confused head, looking down on the pathetic mess that was Dean, with tears leaking out of his eyes like an overgrown infant, ridiculous and selfish and disgusting, and Castiel was going to yell at him now and he deserved every last profanity about to be thrown at him.

‘I want to tell you what you want to hear,’ Dean croaked, his voice breaking, ‘but I don’t know what that is. And I’m sorry, Cas. I’m so, so sorry. You can go if you want to.’

Castiel didn’t. He moved back towards Dean, and sat next to him, keeping as much distance between them on the end of the bed as possible, and they fell into their longest silence yet.

‘Have you ever seen The Bee Movie?’

Dean frowned, looking at the side of Cas’s face.

‘What?’

‘The Bee Movie,’ Castiel repeated. ‘Have you ever seen it? I have. When Lucifer was in my head, it was one of the few things he allowed me to be conscious for. He watched it, and I’m … confused by it. I’ve long since accepted the many odd ways of humanity and stopped being confused by it. But … a bee and a human. I just … don’t understand.’

Dean was almost sure he’d fallen asleep or died or something. One minute Cas was yelling and then he was bitter and now … he was talking about … bees.

‘Stupid kid’s movie,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Yeah, I’ve seen it. Entertaining storyline. Weird bee-human bestiality. I wouldn’t think anything of it.’

‘Have you ever played Crossy Road?’

‘No.’

‘Lucifer has. I caught a few glances. Personally, I prefer Candy Crush although I’m not sure if that’s just because you’re the one who introduced me to it or not. Do you remember that?’

‘Yeah,’ Dean nodded, sighing softly. ‘I remember. I deleted the app. Never downloaded it again, on any phone.’

‘I deleted it last year,’ Castiel told him. ‘Last year, when I lost my car and the only possessions I had that I actually cared about. Books. Pictures. Why keep an app when I’ve lost everything else that reminds me of the one time I was actually happy and had a reason to go on each day?’

Dean stared hard at Cas’s cheek. Almost as hard as the punch that Dean had just felt land in his chest making him want to die to escape the pain. He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight before he opened them again, and noticed Cas was still just … staring off into the distance.

Books. The books Dean had gotten him.

Those pictures. Dean still had three of them, somewhere. In a box he never looked in. Except he had looked in it. And he was about to look in it again, digging up those dusty old framed pictures that had once stood on a mantle in a brightly hit apartment in a completely different world, and handing them to Cas, who finally looked up at him. He looked so, so, sad. And Dean felt so, so, bad.

‘You still have these?’ Castiel asked quietly.

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ Dean shrugged.

‘I didn’t think you cared.’

‘Of course I fucking care, Cas. What do you take me for?’

Castiel didn’t answer, looking at the framed pictures in his hands. At him and at Dean, smiling, together. Awkward behind the scenes, but in the months that followed …

Dean looked at the pictures, too, and all he wanted was to be able to lean his head against Cas’s shoulder and just … stay like that while he tried to keep himself together. He ached to do it, his head was pounding, his forehead craving the touch of a trenchcoated shoulder, but he held back.

‘I can’t believe you kept them.’

It was a whisper.

‘I had to,’ Dean confessed. ‘They’re all I have that lets me know it was real. That it actually happened. That you and me, we actually … we had some time. Some time where it wasn’t like this. Some time where I made you promises and broke every single one of them and when we left we just … fell apart.’

‘I didn’t fall apart,’ Castiel muttered. ‘I was torn.’

‘And it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done.’

Castiel looked at Dean now, the real Dean, not the one in the posed pictures that prequeled the one he would come to know and realized he loved. Would always love. Still did. And he didn’t say anything, even though he’d ranted and no longer needed Dean to feel bad.

But he just … couldn’t say that it wasn’t Dean’s fault. Because it was, even if it was as much his own.

‘You can leave tomorrow if you want to,’ Dean said quietly. ‘But tonight, can you just … stay? With me? I need you here, man. I always do. Even though most of the time I can’t have you.’

Castiel moved and Dean thought he was leaving, but all he was doing was placing the pictures down and then slowly, slowly, he reached out to take hold of Dean’s hand.

It was more contact than they’d had in forever, excluding the hugs from when they thought Dean was dying, and then from when Cas realized Dean wasn’t dead.

They locked eyes.

‘Thank you,’ said Dean.

‘I need it just as much as you do.’

Slow breaths, in and out. Don’t let the tears fall. Dean would not cry in front of Cas again. He wouldn’t do anything stupid or reckless, like nudge closer and softly kiss him, for example, and have those familiar hands on his face, feel the lapels of the trenchcoat in his grip, and then fall back onto the bed, steady hands moving down his body, and under his shirt.

Cas had so many more clothes to take off than he’d ever had in this situation before, and soon Dean’s bedroom floor was littered with pieces of suit and his bed was littered with Cas, with him and Cas, together again, just like it was long ago, moving in harmony but trying not to make any noise, moans stifled with hands and breathy heaves barely concealed.

Dean would have taken anything if he was honest, but he was glad it was this. One last time.

‘Don’t tell Sam about this,’ Dean said quietly after, Cas’s face buried in his shoulder blade. ‘About any of it. The talk … I can’t handle him knowing.’

‘I know,’ Castiel replied, blinking, lashes fluttering against Dean’s back. ‘We’ve been here before. No one needs to know except us. You should sleep, Dean, I’ve kept you up for over an hour.’

‘I’m afraid to sleep,’ Dean admitted, ‘because I’m afraid you’ll be gone before I wake up.’

‘I won’t go,’ Castiel swore. ‘Not without telling you. I promise.’

‘That’s all I need to know.’

So Dean slept, and true to his word, Cas was there in the morning. He wasn’t sleeping, because Dean knew angels didn’t sleep, but he was laying completely still, as still as being asleep, and didn’t move when Dean got up and dressed, and apparently didn’t move when Dean went off to shower either, because it wasn’t until he was having breakfast with Sam did Cas show up.

Castiel did leave that morning, searching for Lucifer. But for some reason, despite Dean not wanting him to, at least not alone, it was okay. Because … they’d resolved something, somehow. And Dean hoped that there was more resolving to come.


	2. Together Again?

Well … that had been … an ordeal.

Lucifer flying off to jump up the ass of fuck-knows-who. The rock star Sam had been fawning all over dead. Having to work with Crowley. Not something Dean tended to enjoy but he couldn’t deny he’d been useful. And working with Cas …

Yeah. That was a thing that had happened.

Cas. Offering himself up as bait as if he wasn’t worth a thing. Again. As fucking usual. It had been weeks since Dean had seen Cas in person, and the first time they get face to face again after that morning Cas had left, the morning after … then Cas offers himself up as some kind of fucking sacrifice? Like what the shit? Seriously. Fuck that.

At least they’d all come out the other end relatively unharmed. Or like, not physically mutilated. That was a plus.

Another plus was Cas agreeing to spend a few days unwinding at the bunker before he zipped off with Crowley again.

‘What, the angel gets to hang around but I don’t?’ Crowley had scoffed, adding a stupid little demonic puppy dog face at the end that just made Dean want to puke, punch him and then puke again. But Dean’s look and Sam’s look and Cas’s look had done the work better than words, so Crowley put up his hands and surrendered, giving Cas a ‘you have my number. And if you wont use it, I have yours.’

‘You should get a new number,’ Dean advised once Crowley was gone.

‘I heard that,’ snapped the pretentious dick, appearing again for a moment before vanishing again.

They waited a solid few seconds before they spoke again … just in case.

‘I won’t be changing my number,’ Castiel informed Sam and Dean in response to Dean’s comment with a sigh. ‘The situation may not be ideal, but Crowley can be useful.’

‘Don’t tell me he’s growing on you,’ said Sam, giving Cas a look with raised eyebrows, although he was making what was clearly a joke.

‘Unless the word “growing” is prefacing the rest of the sentence, “more and more insufferable by the minute” … then no, Sam. Crowley is not _growing_ on me. However, he has sources and people in a lot of places making it easier for him to get intel on Lucifer and on the people he possesses. He’s like … an anti-biotic.’

‘A what now?’ asked Dean, on behalf of both him and Sam, the verbal question Sam’s eyebrow raise asked.

‘An anti-biotic,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘An anti-biotic is infamous for being foul-tasting, yet it cures whatever illness the person taking it has.’

‘Oh, I get it,’ Dean nodded. ‘Crowley’s a foul mountain of dicks, but he’s useful.’

‘Basically.’

‘Good on you for enduring him,’ Sam encouraged.

‘Thank you,’ Castiel replied sincerely. ‘And Dean?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Please don’t insult dicks by comparing them to Crowley.’

‘Sorry, sorry. I know you’re into those. I’ll lay off them.’

 _You’re_. The word and implication was in Cas’s glare, a glare which made Dean stare back at him and Sam fight hard to resist the urge to almost-laugh. _Almost_ laugh. He knew he shouldn’t be laughing in the face of everything that had just happened, but … come on. Those two were like watching a sitcom. A very gay sitcom. A very gay sitcom where the two leads were totally fucking in love with each other and wouldn’t admit it andd _I know you like dick too, Dean, so don’t even bother trying to hide it_.

Sam was completely horrified when he realized Dean and Cas were staring at him and for a fleeting moment Sam was certain he’d said it all out loud.

Then he realized they were just staring because he’d been zoned out and staring into space for about a minute.

‘You okay there, Sammy?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows in a fashion that made it look as though Sam’s zoning out was genuinely worrying him.

‘Yeah,’ Sam answered, clearing his throat. ‘We should … we should go … and … we should go.’

And so they had gone, and the car journey had been pleasant. Some teasing Dean about his guitar playing back in Lucifer’s … whatever the fuck. Lair? Pad? Temporary place of residence while inhabiting a rockstar? And some teasing him about him looking in the pizza box accompanied by a, ‘you weren’t seriously going to eat the Satan pizza if there was anything in that box, were you?’

‘Maybe,’ Dean shrugged in response to Sam’s question.

‘That’s disgusting,’ Castiel replied.

‘You thought breakfast was a spell,’ Dean retorted, ‘Agent _Beyoncé_.’

Mother fucking Beyoncé. It was years ago that Cas had mentioned that godforsaken code name as an agent  to him but Dean had never thought he’d actually use it. Boy was he unfortunately and painfully wrong.

Cas had a comeback in mind, but he couldn’t say it in front of Sam. So instead he just glared, and Dean looked smug, and Sam looked amused and then went quiet and sighed as if disappointed. And then they moved on and Dean started bitching about Cas calling him a lumberjack and Cas sassed his fucking ass off every time Dean said ‘not that I care’ by pointing out that evidently he did care because he and Sam had both changed clothes.

‘It was for the _case_ ,’ Dean snapped.

‘No, no it wasn’t!’ Sam piped up. ‘We didn’t have to change. I said we’d have a better chance if we went as ourselves and didn’t ham up on the douchey rockstar persona. But Dean _insisted_. Have you any idea how much he made us spend on these stupid jackets?’

‘Hey, they’re not stupid,’ Dean complained. ‘In fact, I’m gonna go right ahead and say I look pretty hot.’

‘You look ten years too old to be wearing it.’

‘He has a point,’ Castiel muttered, smirking slightly to himself.

‘Shut the fuck up the two of you,’ Dean grumbled, glaring at the road as he kept his eyes on it, driving on.

Dean was secretly very much liking Cas’s attitude, though. He found himself hoping Cas would come at him, a feeling he’d had once before a million years ago about the queens at that drag show he and Cas went to. He wanted Cas to make fun of him because it meant he got to hear Cas being snarky. And it meant that on some level about some aspect of him, Cas cared.

They drove pretty much non-stop excluding reststops to the bunker, wanting to get there faster. There were three of them so they drove in shifts and Cas was useful in the fact that he didn’t sleep, meaning he could take over when both Sam and Dean were too tired at the same time.

Sam and Dean were both physically and mentally tired when they reached the bunker. Cas was just severely mentally drained, but he was sure it would pass once he got out of the car and could stretch his legs and think of more than just what seemed like an endless journey, although it wasn’t very endless at all. He’d made a similar journey twice before with Dean, to LA and back … to be driving away from LA with him again felt weird. Because it had been such a different situation that there was literally no reason whatsoever to mention their first time there.

Damn those cases were so vastly different. Both involving angels. Both basically insane angels. Yet the circumstance, the severity, the people involved so different … though the location still stuck with Cas. And the fact that they’d been at a concert both times albeit in different situations. And there’d been something to do with pizza boxes both times. And both times there had been pink panties involved.

Shit, Cas had felt like there was a red light flashing and pointing at both him and Dean when they both handled those panties. Cas wondered if Dean still had those. He’d almost snapped that at him in the car as his comeback to Dean picking on him. Maybe he’d ask … eventually. Although now was not the time.

‘I’m going to go sleep in something that isn’t moving,’ Sam decided as soon as they got there.

‘Ditto, brother,’ Dean agreed with a weary sigh.

‘What are you going to do?’ Sam asked Cas, looking at him with eyes tired but mildly curious.

‘Pick a room. Read. Watch TV,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘You two … go. Don’t worry about me.’

Sam grinned.

‘Night,’ he offered, friendly as ever as he and Dean went off in the same direction to their rooms, leaving Cas behind.

‘Don’t let the bed-bugs bite,’ Dean added. ‘Seriously. Besides mine and Sam’s rooms these mattresses are old as fuck. They probably have fleas.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Cas said wearily, watching the two of them go.

And then he sighed.

And he was alone.

Alone, alone.

Alooooone.

For several minutes, until Dean reappeared.

‘Hey, Cas?’ Dean asked.

He didn’t need to say another word. Five minutes later, Cas had Dean pinned beneath him, more alert than he’d been in hours, and he was whispering filthy things about pink panties and the works, and a half hour after that, Dean was asleep with his head on Cas’s bare chest. Cas didn’t move a muscle until Dean woke up, and he didn’t want to.

They didn’t talk about it.

They didn’t talk about the fact that they were “sleeping” together again. Or that the first reprise of that activity had come after a fight and had been one night of Dean begging Cas not to leave, and the second time the two of them were getting along perfectly fine besides mutual bitchiness and sassiness and teasing and an all-round good time.

Cas didn’t leave the next day like he had last time, and he spent a portion of the morning chatting to Sam while Dean showered, the two of them drinking coffee and talking about nothing in particular. Cas vented about Crowley’s annoying habits. Sam vented about Dean’s. They threw around some new vessel for Lucifer ideas. They threw around some plans for stopping Lucifer. All of the Lucifer stuff led nowhere but in a circle, so they dropped it and Cas asked Sam about the last time he and Dean had been in LA, which had been ten years ago or something or whatever Dean had said.

It hurt slightly that Dean hadn’t mentioned being there not too many years ago on that case in that apartment building but he didn’t think on it. The last time Sam and Dean had been there together, that’s what he’d been talking about. Not the last time he’d been without Sam and with someone else.

And of course their last LA visit hadn’t been pleasant which Dean was eager to chip in on when he arrived hungry and in need of caffeine, yet his mouth already power boating complaints about the last trip and about that whole era of their lives with yellow eyes and Meg in her first (presumably) meatsuit and so on and so forth.

The bunker was quiet during the day. Calm, even. The brothers did their own separate things. Cas did his own thing. Occasionally he did things with either brother, or the three of them did something together, or Sam and Dean did something together, but it was a boring and domestic life if they excluded the Lucifer research parts of it all.

Cas stayed for two more days in the end, and each night he and Dean shared a bed. They didn’t even have sex. They just shared a bed, and Dean slept on Cas’s chest and Cas lay with his arms wrapped around Dean, lost in thoughts that pained him, wondering if this meant that he and Dean were sort of … together again, or if Dean even still loved him like he once claimed to have.

Cas tried not to dwell on that. He tried not to ask questions, of himself or of Dean. He just tried to roll with it and take things how they were going with him and Dean until he got a call from Crowley asking for help following up on a lead.

Of course Sam and Dean offered to accompany them. Dean more than Sam.

‘It’s fine,’ Castiel insisted. ‘I got this.’

‘You sure?’ Dean asked, a final challenge to see if Cas would relent.

‘I’m certain,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘I can take on the mountain of dicks alone.’

‘Hey, don’t insult dicks,’ Dean complained.

‘Sorry,’ Castiel replied, with a look that said, _I know you’re into those_.

Before Cas left, Dean took him aside away from Sam and he didn’t say goodbye. He kissed him once without explanation, so Cas took it to mean _don’t do that with anyone else while you’re gone_. Or at least that’s what he hoped it meant, because he wasn’t going to. Kiss anyone else that was. He didn’t want to. He didn’t care.

All Cas wanted to do was venture out and find Lucifer’s new vessel and kill the thing inside, or trap it, or whatever, and then get back so he and Dean could be together again. He hoped that for once, nothing dumb would arise and get in his way.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping nothing stupid comes up and then Dean goes to prison. Lmao.
> 
> Also, it's been a long ass while since I uploaded anything but I've been busy. My brother just had twins on the 4/5th (one before midnight and one after. Which I find to be just hilarious.) But I'm trying to get back into stuff. I'm in LA right now (I live in Austin) (also LA ironic because of what I was writing) but I'm leaving Sunday.
> 
> And finally, I have one question. A friend of mine, an artist, is poor and living on $50 a week. As in $50 for EVERYTHING. Food and water and personal items and everything else. And her family live on the other side of the world and are pretty poor too. She's a friend who was going to illustrate for the original Don't Tell Sammy before it was too late because I was almost done, and she's currently acting as Dean and illustrating for What We Want - she drew this mermaid that Dean's gonna draw for his daughter and it's so so so so so pretty ABNURHEMkfjWKJEN I can't wait to put it in. Uh, anyway.  
> Point is, my friend needs money and still really really wants to illustrate don't tell Sammy, and I want to give her money but I sort of, well, NEED IT because I have children to feed and soon I won't be able to work for a few months. So I was wondering if anyone who enjoyed the fic would be interested in buying a paperback version (with any of the endings - original or alternates, I can make a paperback copy of each.) I once sold some books on a site called Lulu.com (removed them since) which is a pretty good site and it sets a minimum price so I don't know what that price would be, but the minimum is usually like $10 (+ shipping I guess?) or something in black and white and a little more in color. (Again I'd put up both options. So that's what ... 8 different book options now depending on ending and print? Yowza.)
> 
> Anyway, yeah, that's it. Just wondering if anyone would be interested in that. (It's okay if no one is, she says she's going to illustrate it for her own personal wants either way.)
> 
> I'll shut up now and keep working on what I'm currently working on. Also, more Don't Tell Sammy related stuff might be coming. I was talking to a friend who suggested writing it set in different seasons to see what would be different and I want to experiment with that. Anyway, yeah, I'll shut up now. Adios.
> 
> PS. Yeah, the chapter is super short and it makes me sad. But the show isn't giving me much to work with and I won't be able to do any more on this particular fic until it comes back .... /ugh./
> 
> UPDATE: Yeah, I don't think I'm continuing this. This stupid season is stupid and isn't giving me material and I don't like it at all and haven't even watched the last three episodes. This show is just driving mem insane and I can't write about it, I just can't, even though I have other ongoing AU fics that I'm unmotivated to write for because of this. Ugh. Yeah. Anyway.


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